


Viewpoints

by marysiak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Community: hd_erised, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 10:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8442394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marysiak/pseuds/marysiak
Summary: 4 years of Christmas parties told from several different viewpoints.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sugar_screw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugar_screw/gifts).



> Set in 8th year and the years following.

**21st December 1998**

It was a strange group of us that came back to Hogwarts in September 1998. The school was a mess, only the NEWT students were allowed back – which meant a ragtag assortment of actual 7th years and post 7th years. None of the exams had happened last term, the Battle of Hogwarts had seen to that. Most of us hadn’t been ready to sit them anyway. I’d spent a large part of that school year hiding out in the Room of Requirement, leading Dumbledore’s Army against the Death Eaters. Oh, my name’s Neville Longbottom by the way, you probably haven’t heard of me. Harry wanted them to give me an award for killing Voldemort’s snake, but I told him not to bother. He can keep all the press he gets, it looks awful.

It was sad at first, seeing the school still so damaged, remembering the people who should have been there and weren’t. Like Lavender Brown. I went to her funeral, a lot of us did. 

Then there were the people who came back that we didn’t really expect, like Millicent Bulstrode and Draco Malfoy. A lot of the Slytherins had been on Voldemort’s side, or at least had slimed up to the Carrows when Snape was in charge of the school. Still can’t quite get my head around Snape being one of the good guys. But Harry doesn’t let us forget it. 

It was Harry that made sure the Slytherins who came back weren’t left out or picked on. It wasn’t just Bulstrode and Malfoy, but they were the two we didn’t trust. Blaise Zabini, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass never really did anything that awful, they just had the misfortune of being in the same house as a bunch of people who did. But I’m not one to hold a grudge… well not much of one. And if Harry says we should try and all get along, then I’m going to do my best to do just that. It’s only a year after all.

We’ve all been put in the Hufflepuff dorms. They were the ones that got the least damaged, well them and the Slytherin dorms, but I guess they figured Hufflepuff was more of a neutral ground. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were both pretty trashed, being up in the towers. 

Between those who decided to just not take their NEWTS, those who’ve gone abroad to finish school or are home schooling and those who died, there are only nineteen of us left out of thirty three. Then there’s another twenty seven real seventh years, I don’t know them quite so well, except for Luna and Ginny.

They’re making everyone else take a year off until the school’s properly safe again and the staff are ready. We’re all going to help with the rebuilding as part of our classes, there’s loads of Charms and Transfiguration and Runes and Arithmancy involved. Professor McGonagall’s still teaching Transfiguration until they find someone good enough to take over next year. They need to find a lot of new teachers. Slughorn’s only going to stay on this year and then he wants to retire again. Professor Binns somehow disappeared during the Battle, they think maybe when the History of Magic classroom got destroyed he passed over to the other side at last. And we haven’t had a Muggle Studies teacher since poor Professor Burbage got killed by Voldemort. 

Hagrid and Professor Sprout are still in St Mungo’s, but they’re both going to get better, it just might take a while. So we’re doing a lot of study groups and figuring out stuff for ourselves. I’ve been helping a lot with Herbology, cause I was always good at it, and it’s been really nice actually.

Anyway we’ve decided to have a Christmas party this evening, it’s the last full day of the winter term and, although a fair few of us will be staying on over Christmas, not many of the Gryffindors are, and Hermione thought it would be nice to have a party while we were all still here.

I think she’s worried about people getting on when it’s just a few of them… well actually, I think she’s worried about Harry and Malfoy both staying for Christmas. Like I said, Harry was really big on getting us all to accept that the Slytherins had a right to be here too, but despite all his talk he clearly still doesn’t trust Malfoy. He watches him all the time.

Like, right now, Harry is supposed to be in charge of food cause he gets on best with the House Elves, but all he’s done for the last half hour is rearrange a plate of cupcakes and stare at Malfoy. You’d think Malfoy didn’t notice, but I think he’s just doing his best to ignore it. Every now and then I see his eyes flicker over to see if Harry’s still there. 

I’m not sure what to think. Harry was right about Malfoy in 6th year when we all thought he was being paranoid, but that seems like a long time ago now and Malfoy hasn’t put a foot wrong since we came back. No sneaking off on his own, no suspicious letters or books. His Dad’s in Azkaban again and his Mum moved to France I think. He’s on some sort of court approved release thing, which basically means he had to come back to school and he has to stay here over the holidays and they’ll decide after his NEWTS whether he can just go free or not. I wouldn’t say he’s friendly, and I wouldn’t say any of us want to be his friend, but he’s been all right. He doesn’t stir things up like he used to and he’s been perfectly polite to me, for a change.

Hold on, he’s getting up and going over to Harry. Oh, he doesn’t look happy. I guess the staring was bothering him more than he let on. 

Harry’s trying to do the casually walking away thing, but it’s not going to work this time. Malfoy’s got him by the arm. The last thing we need is for them to finally blow up at each other right before the party.

Think I’ll just wander over here and put some more candles on the table, just doing party décor, not eavesdropping at all.

“What is it you think I’m going to do if you stop looking at me for five seconds?” Malfoy hisses right into Harry’s ear. I lean over the table, in what I hope is a subtle manner, to hear better. “Did you have them send me here just so you could be the one to catch me out when I step a toe over your arbitrary lines?”

I wonder if I should reach for my wand, but Harry only ducks his head and flushes a bit red at being called out. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t mean… I need to go and get the rest of the food.”

He tugs himself out of Malfoy’s grip and escapes the room as I straighten up and pretend I wasn’t listening. But I’ve been rumbled.

“Do you give him daily reports then? Do the two of you keep a list of what books I’m reading and what colour underwear I have on,” he spits at me.

I don’t chicken out though, I’m not afraid of Malfoy any more. “I don’t know what Harry does,” I tell him calmly. “I was just worried the two of you were going to start something and ruin the party.”

Malfoy stares me down for a moment, then backs off. “Sorry,” he mutters, and heads back to his book.

A year ago I’d have dropped dead of shock at Malfoy apologising to me for anything, but it’s not so odd these days. And I get it, if someone was watching me like that it’d start rubbing me up the wrong way too. But then, Malfoy probably ought to just deal with it, we have our reasons for not trusting him after all. These things take time.

–

**22nd December 1998**

Neville and I are the only Gryffindors staying at Hogwarts over Christmas. Ron invited me to the Burrow of course, and I’ll stop by there on Christmas Day, but I want to be here. This is the only place that really feels like home, even if it is in tatters. I’d rather stay and keep rebuilding over the holidays.

And besides, Malfoy has to stay here, so I think it’s better I do to.

It’s not that I think he’s up to something, I just feel… responsible. Is that stupid? I think it’s probably stupid, Hermione gave me this look when I tried to explain it to her.

It’s just, he’s here because of me. Because I made Ron and Hermione turn back for them in the Room of Requirement, and because I told the Wizengamot that he’d tried to help us at the Manor, even though I don’t really know if he meant to or if he just froze up. I think probably the latter. But he could have said it was me, he knew it was me. And he didn’t. Just like his Mum could have said I was alive. They had their own reasons for what they did, but it added up to me being able to defeat Voldemort and they deserve some consideration for that.

So anyway, I feel like he’s my responsibility. To make sure he toes the line, to make sure he’s doing all right, to make sure he turns out okay. Who else is going to do it? Snape would’ve I think, but he’s not here any more. So it’s just me.

Except of course I can’t exactly explain that to him, can I? 

Only I think I did sort of try to, last night, towards the end of the party. I don’t know, I saw him leaving early and I followed him. I keep doing that, then wondering why I’m doing it. Maybe it’s just habit. He was only going to bed, but he stopped outside his dorm room when he realised I was behind him.

I don’t even remember most of the conversation, I was a bit drunk and for some reason I was really nervous. Maybe cause it’d be the second time we’d got in an argument that day and I wasn’t trying to fight with him. I find it hard to look him in the eye these days, maybe cause I’m not sure what I’m doing, so I kept staring at his mouth instead.

I said something about wanting to watch out for him and something about Professor Snape and then he got really upset and punched me in the stomach.

I had to go throw up after that, not that he punched me that hard, but hard enough when I’d mostly just had sweets and alcohol. Then I went to bed as well and I just woke up. Which is why I’m thinking about it still. I think I dreamed about his mouth, which is weird, but I guess it’s one of the last things I saw before I fell asleep so that’s probably why.

\--

**23rd December 1999**

I was surprised to be invited at first. Then I remembered what a do-gooder Granger is and it made more sense. They don’t actually want us at their party, but they’ll invite us anyway just so they can feel smug about what good, understanding, forgiving people they are.

So we’ve all decided to go just to annoy them.

I even tried to get Greg and Pansy to come along as our guests, but not Theo, we don’t talk to Theo any more. Slytherins stick together, but even we have our limits and Theo lost the plot completely when his Dad was killed at the Battle of Hogwarts. 

Pansy said she had better things to do than annoy a bunch of boring Hufflepuffs and kow tow to the Gryffindor heroes. 

Greg still doesn’t get out much, he worries they might change their minds and send him to Azkaban after all. I visit him now and then, but it’s a bit awkward cause we used to date, back at school. He doesn’t like to be reminded of school after what happened to Vincent. Personally I think Vincent Crabbe was a moron and it serves him right that he got himself killed. But Pansy says that’s why I don’t get invited places unless it’s by stuck up Gryffindor’s offering social charity.

Which is exactly why Pansy and I get on so well. She’s a lot more like me than she admits. Oh, my name’s Millicent by the way, you probably didn’t realise that. I didn’t really make a lot of friends at Hogwarts and I’ve been keeping things pretty quiet since the war. I don’t go out much either.

I bet Pansy shows up anyway.

Yup, there she is with Draco and Blaise. Pretending they’re too good for the place as usual.

Of course, given that the place is Potter’s house, they have a point. It’s kind of a weird house, it’s pretty massive, but half of it looks totally neglected and the other half looks like an old pureblood house with pasted on Muggle décor.

None of us have the faintest idea where we actually are, the invitations were Portkeys straight to the venue as apparently Potter’s house is Unplottable and top secret. I think the war gave Potter psychological issues… actually I’m pretty sure he already had major issues even before the war.

The food’s good though.

Hang on, here comes Pansy.

“I’m only here because Draco begged me to come,” she opens with. “I wouldn’t be caught dead otherwise, but he says he has to come or Potter will think he’s up to something.”

“Isn’t he more likely to be up to something because he did come?” I ask. “Especially since he brought you, no offence.”

“Well, that’s what I said, but I think being stalked by Potter for seven years has addled his brain. Poor boy doesn’t know what way’s up any more.”

“Instability runs in his family,” I note. “He’s half Black isn’t he?”

“Speaking of which, do you realise where we are? Draco clued me in.”

“No, where?”

“The old Black town house in London. Draco recognised the crest on some of the fittings, he’s even been here before when he was little, though he says he hardly remembers it.”

“So much for super secret then,” I comment. “How come Potter lives here, did the Ministry give it to him or something? I mean if it belonged to the Blacks then it should be Draco’s Mum’s shouldn’t it?”

“No idea, and I’m hardly going to ask him. Though if he got his pick of confiscated properties I’ve no idea why he’d choose this one, it ought to be condemned.”

“Draco’s hitting the drinks table a bit hard, isn’t he,” I notice as I watch him down a glass of firewhisky on the other side of the room. He looks nervous.

“He’s a bit of a wreck,” says Pansy fondly. “Not having any money is getting to him in the worst way and there’s only so long he can keep sofa surfing.”

“You don’t sound very worried.”

“I’m not, it’s only been six month since he left Hogwarts. He’ll pull himself together eventually, he’s too clever not to. And people will calm down a bit with time, he’s bound to find something.”

“That’s very optimistic of you.”

Pansy shrugs. “I’m not the bitter type, we’ve made it this far. In fact I think I might go and talk to Granger, just for shits and giggles.”

Pansy is probably the toughest person I know. Bar none.

A couple of hours later and I’m considering whether to make Draco go home before he embarrasses himself. He’s really drunk.

Mind you so is Potter, which presumably explains why they’re playing strip exploding snap in the middle of the sitting room with Finnigan and a couple of Ravenclaws, Corner and Boot I think. It was just alcoholic exploding snap until they finished the firewhisky.

Draco was always terrible at Exploding Snap, he hates when things explode in his face, so he always hesitates. That’s probably why he just lost his trousers.

Potter was doing really well until not that long ago, his concentration seems to have got lost along with his shirt. He may be an annoying Gryffindor twat, but he does have nice shoulders I suppose.

It’s getting really late though and I’m not drunk so I think it’s time to head off.

–

**24th December 1999**

Oh Merlin, everything hurts. I think I’m going to be sick. Where am I? What time is it? Where are my trousers? Who are you and why are you naked?

Oh… oh I see. You’re Potter. And you’re asleep, thank you Salazar. I’ll just be going, quietly, quietly.

I really wish I didn’t remember what that taste in my mouth was.

Wand, wand... there, on the table.

Can you Obliviate yourself?

Should I Obliviate him?

Merlin no, what am I thinking. I’m still drunk, and they’ll throw me in Azkaban for sure if I get caught trying to Obliviate the Golden Boy.

Where the hell are my trousers?

Oh, there. On Terry Boot. Right. Fine. Where are Boot’s trousers?

Oh… was he still in here when we? Oh, I really hope he had passed out already at least.

Fuck it, I can Floo without trousers as long as it gets me out of here.

\--

**24th December 2000**

Everyone was really surprised when Harry let Draco Malfoy move into his house this spring, but I thought it was really nice. Draco needed a place to stay and Harry had so much space. And they had Hermione to keep an eye on them, she’s been staying with Harry since not long after we left school. 

They’re not throwing a big party this year, just having a few friends over for Christmas Eve. Harry’s been an Auror officially for almost three months now and they keep him really busy. Besides it’s Hermione who usually organises the party and she’s even busier than Harry, she’s been promoted already at the Ministry and is in charge of a whole sub-division in the Magical Creatures department. 

She paid Kreacher a bag of silver to do the catering for this evening, I know because we keep catching him trying to slip it back into her belongings one coin at a time. I think she’s right about House Elf welfare, that’s why I joined SPEW, but she hasn’t quite got the hang of the finer points of what they need yet. Oh, I’m Luna by the way, Luna Lovegood. You probably recognised me though, from my editor’s picture in the Quibbler.

I came over early with Ginny to help decorate. She and Harry are a bit awkward around each other still so she likes a buffer, and she says Hermione and Malfoy don’t count. It’s nice that Ginny and I are so close now, for a while she was more friends with Hermione, but she says the more serious Hermione and Ron get the more she needs other friends. I like that we’re all friends, but it is nice to have a best friend. I never really had one of those before.

Draco and I are friends, too, we have been since I was kept prisoner in Malfoy Manor. That’s why I wasn’t as surprised when Harry let him move in, because I already knew Draco was a nice person really and Harry is an excellent judge of character because he can sense auras. He doesn’t realise that of course. There’s a lot about being a wizard he doesn’t really understand since he was raised as a Muggle.

It’s quite fun seeing all the Muggle things he does though. He has a televisual that he’s managed to make work despite all the magic in the house, and sometimes I come over and we watch movings on it. Draco pretends he thinks they’re silly, but you can never believe what Draco says, you have to watch him to find out what he really means. Harry’s good at that, he watches Draco all the time so he doesn’t get confused.

And because Harry’s house elf, Kreacher, is quite old, and because of SPEW, Harry has a lot of clever Muggle things in the kitchen too. A mechanical dish washer and a tiny waves machine that heats things up. Draco’s afraid of the tiny waves machine, he put a fork in the last one and it blew up and set fire to the kitchen. Harry says he likes it cause when he uses warming charms to cook the funny boxes of Muggle food he gets they tend to explode. Draco says the tiny waves machine is just as bad, but Harry prefers things to explode inside a box, instead of in his face. 

I’m pretty good at kitchen charms, since Mum died when I was so young and Dad and I had to figure it all out ourselves. But Harry and Hermione are used to Muggle things and Draco never learned any of that stuff. He says his magic simply won’t allow it, which usually means that he’s worried he won’t be very good at it, or sometimes just that he can’t be bothered.

Kreacher seems to like the machines, which I wouldn’t have expected, but he’s been very progressive since the war. He’s the House Elf liaison to SPEW now. Oh, that reminds me, I wanted to ask Kreacher if he could get me an interview with the House Elves at Hogwarts. I expect he’s down in the kitchen.

Harry really ought to do something about the hallways, there are wrackspurts in the corners of the ceiling. But I suppose he doesn’t have a lot of time for decorating.

Harry and Draco are arguing again, I can hear them all the way down the stairs. They still argue a lot, even though they’ve been living here together for about seven months now.

“Don’t be so ridiculous,” Harry is saying. “I can drink without getting drunk you know.”

“I just think… all things considered… that it’s not worth the risk. For either of us.”

“I’m not going teetotal at my own party just because you think I have no self control! You’re so conceited.”

“Well, if you would stop staring at me when you think I’m not looking maybe I wouldn’t be so concerned.”

“I don’t stare at you, I look at you because you’re in my house. I can’t just never look at you.”

“You stare and you know it!”

“Do not!

“Do too!”

Maybe I’ll find Kreacher later. Neville should be here soon, I’ll just go back upstairs.

–

**25th December 2000**

Draco and I tend to wake up at about the same time. I think cause he’s a light sleeper and I’m grumpy and noisy in the mornings cause I hate getting up. By the time I’ve banged around in the bathroom and on the stairs getting ready for work he’s woken up and gone downstairs to drink tea and pout about what a clumsy oaf I am.

Hermione thinks he ought to get a job, but I know there’s no point pushing him. It would be hard for him to find anything and he’d hate it, hate himself, if he had to compromise much more than he already has. 

Of course I don’t have work today. But he’s used to being up early and I’m excited because it’s Christmas. Still, even though I’m twenty. I’ve had a lot less Christmases worth celebrating in my life, I have to make up for all the bad ones. Also neither of us drank much last night cause of what happened last year. 

Hermione went back to the Burrow with Ron last night, after the party, so it’s just the two of us in the house. It’s strange to think that soon it’ll always just be the two of us. Once Hermione and Ron get married they’ll be moving in together. Assuming Draco doesn’t eventually find some other place to live, I keep thinking he will. I mean he can’t want to live with me the rest of his life. Sometimes I still think he doesn’t even like me very much, it’s hard to tell with him. We do argue a lot.

We’ve never actually discussed what happened last Christmas. We refer to it in vague terms without ever specifying, so much so that I’m not sure what he even remembers. He was really drunk. I know he remembers enough though, he blushes whenever the topic comes up. I apologised of course, as soon as I got my nerve up. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of him, he was trashed and I’m supposed to be making sure he’s okay, not… whatever that was. I try to pretend it didn’t happen… it’s not as easy as it should be.

He’s drinking tea and eyeing the presents under the tree, I didn’t put most of them out until after he went to bed last night. He’s wearing the silk robe he always wears in the mornings, it clings to his ass when he walks and slips open at the front. And he wonders why I stare at him!

“We can open the presents now, if you like,” I say.

He eyes me with distaste. “You can’t open presents before breakfast, Potter,” he replies, as if doing so might get us arrested. He does call me Harry occasionally, but never before 10am.

“Says who?” I demand and go to the tree. Ron dropped off all the Weasley presents there last night, even though I’m going over for dinner later, cause he knows I like to open everything together in the morning. It’s more fun the more presents there are at once. The more Christmas paper there is strewn around the floor when I’m done, the better I like it.

I start sorting the presents into piles as he glares at me. Once they’re all sorted I run out the room and down the stairs to the kitchen. Kreacher is spending Christmas Day at Hogwarts, so we’re really on our own. I grab a croissant and microwave it for 10 seconds just to warm it up a bit. I butter it less neatly than Draco would, dash up the stair and dump it in front of him, then follow it up with a lapful of presents.

“There,” I say. “Eat up.”

He looks more startled than I had expected and then I realise why. He’s picked up one of his presents and is looking at the label. I suspect he wasn’t expecting so many gifts. I wonder if he’ll feel awkward, not having anything to give people back. As far as I know he only got gifts for me and Hermione and his Mum, and I suppose he probably got something for Parkinson, but I never saw it if he did.

He gave his Mum a silver hand mirror with the Black crest on the back. I know cause I suggested maybe he might like to look through the stuff in the attic to see if there was anything his Mum would like still there. It’s not like I care about that stuff, Sirius didn’t so why should I. And I paid for the owl to ship it, cause he’s got next to no money. The Ministry still has a lock on all the Malfoy finances. Hermione says it’ll likely be years before it gets released, with how slowly the Ministry works. All the Death Eater families have the same problem, and the people he knew in Slytherin that weren’t Death Eaters don’t like to associate themselves too closely to those who were. That’s why I asked him to live here, I’d have asked him sooner if I’d realised how hard he was finding it. But he doesn’t like people to know, doesn’t like to seem weak. I can understand that.

“Who’s that from then?” I ask him to break to silence.

“Lovegood,” he answers. He puts the wrapped box back in his lap and sits all the presents on the table while he eats his croissant.

I let him, I think he probably needs a minute. I start opening my presents.

When I open his I’m surprised cause it looks expensive, then I realise he must have made it himself from something silver he probably found in the attic. I look at the back and sure enough there’s a tiny D.L.M. inscribed on it as a makers mark. It’s a small picture frame with a twisted design of lions and snakes worked around it. I’m confused by the photo at first as it seems to be just a backdrop, but then a young figure is pushed into the frame by an unknown hand. Fidgeting momentarily in the centre of the frame is Sirius, I can tell it’s him even though the boy is only about nine or ten. Something in the eyes and the shape of the mouth. He twists around and tries to leave frame again, there’s a brief struggle with the unknown hand before he gives up and scowls at the camera. I am hypnotised watching it. The familiar and the unfamiliar mixed together. The mischief in the dark grey eyes, the stubbornness in the jaw, the slender frame and black wavy hair combed into silky waves down to his shoulders. So young, I had never imagined Sirius being so young.

“I found it in the library, tucked inside a book, and I made the frame out of some silver cutlery,” Draco says quietly. “So I suppose I’m giving you something that was already yours, but ...”

“It’s brilliant,” I tell him, trying not to sound like I’m going to cry even though I think I am. I stand up and put it on the mantelpiece next to the photo of me with my Mum and Dad, so I can look at the wall where my face can’t be seen. “I’m hungry after all, I’ll just go and get myself something.”

I escape back to the kitchen feeling like an oaf. I bought him a scarf. 

–

**25th December 2001**

When I was younger I thought that by now Draco and I would be throwing fancy grown up dinner parties in Malfoy Mansion. When I was 15 I had it all planned out. Draco would take me to the Yule Ball, we’d date until graduation when he would propose marriage, fucking like bunnies the whole time but pretending to everyone that we were waiting. We’d get married in spring the next year, but we’d wait until about now to even think about having a child. We’d have lot’s of wonderful holidays and throw lots of extravagant and beautiful parties and I wouldn’t work at all and Draco would do something important for the Ministry.

Instead Draco’s throwing grown up dinner parties with Harry Potter and I’m totally single and I work as a waitress in a restaurant in Muggle London. I mean really. Where did it all go so wrong?

That was a rhetorical question. Draco and I figured out in 6th year that we’d never work out as a couple. I thought I might marry him anyway, until our side lost the war. The Malfoy name isn’t worth spitting on any more and he has less money now than I do. At least I have a job.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s one of my best friends. But if I was going to marry someone for convenience I’d be better off marrying Potter, at least he’s loaded.

Which really begs the question of why he’s still single and shacking up with Draco. The other two thirds of the Wonder Trio got hitched in April, but Potter hasn’t dated anyone since he and the ginger minger disappointed the tabloids by not even having a messy breakup to cover. They just kind of puttered out awkwardly. She’s been dating Zabini of all people for positively ages now. Which is annoying as he’s the only one of us that kept their money and I was considering tapping that. Little gold digging bitch.

They’re coming over for Christmas dinner too, but they’re late. I bet they’re shagging, Zabini says she’s insatiable. It makes me queasy just thinking it.

Of course I know why Draco’s still here. He’s only gone and fallen in love with Potter hasn’t he. It’s revolting and awful. I only finally got him to admit to it when we went to the beach this summer for a long weekend. I saved up forever for that holiday and we still couldn’t afford to go anywhere further than bloody Margate. We ate ice cream on the beach and Draco burnt his nose and looked ridiculous. And he told me about what happened at that first party at Potter’s house after almost everyone had gone home. And I teased him about it until he went in the huff with me for three hours. And then he told me in the middle of the night in our little twin room at the bed and breakfast, with the lights off.

“I’m in love with him,” he said. “Please don’t laugh.”

I didn’t laugh.

Some things just aren’t funny.

Here come Ginny and Blaise at last, and... yes, they’ve been shagging. The state of her hair!

The things I put up with these days.

–

**25th December 2001**

It’s nearly not Christmas anymore.

The guests are finally gone, the food’s all eaten or put away, the dishes are in the washer.

Harry’s lying on the sofa looking at the tree lights and drinking tea. We always seem to be opposites, I drink tea in the morning and he drinks it in the evening. 

Pansy says I should tell him and get it over with, if I’m going to stay here. Or I should leave. 

I shouldn’t have told her, she worries about it more than I do. I only worry he’ll ask me to leave. I’m used to him not feeling the same way, but I like it here, I like this. It doesn’t have to change, it doesn’t matter how I feel. If he knows he might ask me to leave, if he doesn’t know he might not, might not ever. He doesn’t seem to show any sign of wanting me to go. We don’t fight as much as we used to, and when we do it’s not nasty. Well except that time before Granger and Weasley’s wedding when he was stressing about his best man’s speech, I thought he might actually thump me, it’s a long while since we’ve been that close to actual violence.

If I’d fallen for him when I was younger I’d have fought it tooth and nail, but truth is, it’s the best thing that’s happened to me since I don’t even know when. My life has been unrelentingly shit since the end of fifth year and the only thing that has ever helped has been him. Him killing the Dark Lord and ending the stupid war, him speaking for me and Mother to the Wizengamot, even if I hated that I needed him to at the time. Him persuading me to move in here. And thank Merlin I was just broken enough to say yes, it was such a close fight with my pride to admit that I really needed somewhere to live and that there weren’t going to be any other offers. 

Mother is living on the charity of distant relatives in France who draw the line at taking me in as well. She didn’t want to go without me, but I persuaded her I was okay even though I wasn’t. I really really wasn’t. But I couldn’t look after her as well as me and I didn’t want her to see me fail.

And now I can go and visit her every now and then, she even came here once for the weekend, but she doesn’t like it in England. She can go out in France without people really recognising her.

I’m going there to visit with her tomorrow for a couple of days.

I do want to tell him though. I want to tell him, to touch him, to kiss him. Lying there on the sofa with his hair all scuffed up at the back and his lips red from the wine we had earlier and his bare feet resting up on the arm.

But I’d rather think about it and not do it, than do it and risk it not going well. I don’t even know if he likes men. I think he does… but he’s never admitted it. He watches me. It used to drive me nuts, and now I’m used to it, I like it. I play at teasing him without ever showing I’m doing it on purpose. I walk around in my silk robe half the morning, with no shirt on, bending over instead of crouching to pick things up cause I know how good my arse looks. He looks, I know he looks, but I don’t know what he thinks. 

He’s looking at me now. We’re looking at each other in the soft flickering light from the fire and the glow of the Christmas decorations.

“Dinner went well,” he says.

“Yes,” I reply. 

“Are you leaving early tomorrow?”

“No, just in time to get there for lunch.”

He nods to himself. Finishes his drink. As he gets up to go to bed, I think to myself that I’ll stay down here for a bit. Sometimes the temptation to do something is strong enough that it’s better I stay put until it goes away.

But he doesn’t go to bed, he stops by my chair and hovers, looking down at me with his face in shadow so I can’t see his expression.

He reaches out his hand to me and I take it automatically and stand as he tugs me up. “What...”

When he kisses me I’m not as surprised as I think I should be. He tastes of wine and tea and he smells of the fire that he poked back to life half an hour ago. His hand is warm on the back of my neck and his face is slightly rough with stubble. I open my mouth a bit and let my tongue touch his bottom lip.

When he pulls away he’s the one who looks surprised. “I thought...”

“What?” I ask, slightly breathless and still clinging to his shirt.

“I thought you wouldn’t let me,” he says, looking puzzled but pleased.

I shake my head. “If you thought I wouldn’t let you then why would you...”

He shrugs, his hands still holding me to him. “I had to know.”

We look at each other.

“And now you know?” I ask, growing uncertain again the longer he’s not kissing me.

“Yeah,” he says. “Now I know.” And he kisses me again, and this time he doesn’t stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [Livejournal](http://hd-erised.livejournal.com/67868.html) . ♥
> 
> This story is part of an on-going anonymous fest hosted at hd_erised @ livejournal.com. The author will be revealed January 9th.


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